Placebo
by INMH
Summary: Fill for tellshannon815's prompt on the TVD Comment Fic Meme, "Damon/Sage, I'll pretend to be Katherine if you pretend to be Finn."


Placebo

**Rating:** R/M

**Genre:** Drama/Romance/Angst

**Summary:** Fill for tellshannon815's prompt on the TVD Comment Fic Meme, "Damon/Sage, I'll pretend to be Katherine if you pretend to be Finn."

**Author's Note:** As much as I love Finn/Sage, I've been itching to write Damon/Sage too.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own The Vampire Diaries. It belongs to L.J. Smith/The CW.

()()

It was 1915, and they'd compelled their way into the house of a Manhattan socialite. Sage was just as happy sleeping on a sidewalk- being born into a time period where you were lucky to have a door that shut properly would do that to you- but Damon was less accustomed to roughing it, and though irritating him was a game that never got old Sage did sometimes like to indulge him.

Some nights they slept apart. Other nights they slept in the same bed. And yet other nights they got into the same bed but did not sleep. Last night had been one of the sleeping nights, because they'd hunted that day and the way they mixed feeding and pleasure could, on occasion, take a lot out of them.

Sage knew she needed to do something about the sleep-talking when one morning Damon asked "Who's Finn?"

It wasn't his fault for touching the nerve. She didn't talk about Finn because, quite frankly, the subject was a sore one. Reminiscing privately about their good times together was comforting; relating the story to others and therefore having to talk about why Finn was no longer present was just painful.

It was approximately eight-hundred thirty-nine years, three months, two and a half weeks and four days since Finn had disappeared. She knew where he was- stuck in a coffin, being dragged around like luggage by that maniac brother of his- but he was still missing, and the sting of his absence had yet to abate.

All the same, Finn would be absolutely furious with her if she'd allowed herself to mope. One of the things he'd loved best about Sage was her fire, and to douse it with sadness would be an insult to him and everything their love had been. No, he would have wanted her lively and happy until they could be together again. And honestly, how long could Klaus keep him locked away?

Sage tugged the brush through her hair as she contemplated the answer she hadn't had to give anyone for a long while now. "My first love." _My only love._

"Is he dead?" _I really should have encouraged this kid to keep his tact_. Sage thought with a charge of irritation.

"In a manner of speaking."

"How'd he die?" _If this kid doesn't change his tone up a bit, I might have to punch him._

"His insane brother stabbed him."

"Oh."

What bothered Sage was that Damon only seemed mildly interested in a subject that caused her serious distress. If she'd known he'd give so little of a damn, she might not have bothered explaining at all (Or at least would have come up with some ridiculous exposition about Finn being a merman who breathed fire and died wrestling a Burmese python). Maybe she'd been just a little _too_ thorough when she'd wrenched that stick out of his ass.

"There's a couple from Louisiana that's moved in two blocks over," Sage said after she'd finished twisting her hair into a bun. "Care for Cajun?"

Damon smirked, and the discussion was forgotten.

()()

Almost three years later, they were in Oklahoma.

The country's consumed in celebrations for the end of the World War. Fireworks and parties abounded, and Sage and Damon took great pleasure in participating in each. In the confusion, it wasn't too difficult to pick off a person in the crowd every now and then. A lot of happy people also meant a lot of people willing to get drunk and do questionable things with strangers.

Sage got separated from Damon for a time, had a quick bite with (on) a young woman from Selma before tracking him down to a hotel in downtown Tulsa. He was having sex with a dark-haired young woman of perhaps twenty; she was riding him, and he had his eyes shut, nails digging into her arms.

"Oh God- _Damien_-" The girl breathed, and Sage could tell she was an idiot from the way she said it- and also from the fact that she was apparently willing to hop into bed with a man whose name she hadn't even properly learned (without even closing the door all the way).

Sage crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe, watching as their breathing grew more erratic, their movements sloppier, and finally the girl threw her head back and screamed loud enough that Sage winced and touched her ear in pain. A minute or two later, Damon followed. He didn't scream, though; he grunted, bit down on his lip and growled a name-

"_Katherine_."

"K-Katherine?" Sage blinked. She had assumed that Katherine was the girl's name, but she sounded confused. "My name's Colleen." Sage almost laughed, because clearly the girl didn't understand what it meant to have another woman's name called out in bed. _Probably a virgin before Damon got his hands on her._

"Well, _Colleen_," Sage spoke up, grinning when Colleen jumped a mile. "If you'll excuse us, I need to have a word with my little brother." If not lovers, that was what they usually posed as. Colleen went bright red, but Damon was unfazed. He'd probably heard Sage approaching a while ago.

Once the girl had gathered her clothing and left, Sage sauntered over to the bed and sat down on the edge. Damon looked up at her with the weary, sated look of a man who'd just gotten laid, and laid well.

"Who's Katherine?" But all at once she didn't need to ask, because she remembered his words from the night they'd first met: "_I do not need a woman for pleasure, I am spoken for._" Damon's silence and sudden moodiness after she posed the question confirmed her suspicion. Sage didn't want to torment him over it. She wasn't a sadist- she had sadistic tendencies, but was not a sadist. She didn't take pleasure from Damon's serious pain. "Let me guess: The one who speaks for you."

"I do _not_ want to talk about this."

"You made me explain Finn, and I suddenly notice how much more sensitive you are about the subject of dearly-departed lovers. She is _dead_, isn't she?" Okay, so maybe she _was_ a bit of a sadist.

"In a manner of speaking." And the way he said it left no question as to whether or not he was mocking her earlier words regarding Finn. Sage toyed with the edge of the bed-sheet, and her expression was much more passive than she felt.

"So we both have giant, gaping maws in our hearts," She sighed. "How…"

"Romantic?" Damon suggested.

"I was going to say grossly pathetic." Damon snorted and shut his eyes. However dismissive he'd been of her loss of Finn, Sage could see clearly now that he could empathize with her. She could see the look in his eyes that said that he would do just about anything for another night with Katherine, just as she would love to have with Finn.

"Why don't we do this," Sage mumbled in what was likely the most subdued voice Damon had ever heard from her, hand moving from the sheet to his chest. "I'll pretend to be Katherine, you pretend to be Finn, and we both get a night with our true loves once more. In the morning, we don't speak of it again."

Damon was silent for a while. And then he nodded, expression completely and utterly solemn.

Previous nights, it was fucking. That night it was making love, because she guided Damon's hands to all of the places Finn was fond of touching and he let her top, the way evidently Katherine enjoyed sex. They both kept their eyes shut and barely spoke save for moans and sighs; anything that identified who they really were shattered the illusion, reminded them of what it was.

In her mind's eye, Sage could see that bedroom smirk Finn had always worn for their couplings, was pleased to see that she could summon to mind every inch of his body and what parts had been most sensitive. For a brief moment, Sage experienced a regret so deep that she was doing this with Damon, it felt like a line was being crossed between 'living without Finn' and 'replacing Finn', one that she'd never intended to and never dreamed she could cross.

Sage pushed it from her mind as she rolled her hips and squeezed Damon's shoulders. She needed this, needed it badly, and Finn would never know. Hell, he'd always had an odd sense of humor; maybe he'd laugh about it, if she ever told him. If she ever _saw_ him again.

When it was over, Sage rolled off of Damon and turned her back to him. Most nights when they had sex, she did it unintentionally. But she clung to the fantasy until she couldn't anymore, and post-sex Finn had always held her. Always. Without fail. No matter how tired, no matter how hungry, no matter how dazed he was.

The game was officially over when Damon put his hand on her waist. Finn had always wrapped both arms around her. The deviation was obvious enough that Sage couldn't pretend that he was there anymore, and she swallowed a surprisingly large lump in her throat and shut her eyes.

"Damon," Sage muttered, "No offense, but can you not touch me?"

"I'm still pretending." She felt a finger brush briefly against her back- he was playing with her hair. Probably pretending that she was a brunette.

It didn't quite work for Sage, though, because Finn had never really played with her hair much. At least not enough for it to be a distinct memory of hers. But she couldn't deny Damon a little more imagination-time, and so she simply forced her mind to pretend that they hadn't done what they'd just done and that it was just another night of sex with one Damon Salvatore.

Sage went to sleep and, as sleep descended heavily onto her, she tried to pretend that it was Finn's arms and that nothing had changed.

-End


End file.
